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  <title>Sonnet II</title>
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   <h1><span id="f001">II</span></h1>
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    <span id="f002">When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,</span><br/>
    <span id="f003">And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,</span><br/>
    <span id="f004">Thy youth’s proud livery so gazed on now,</span><br/>
    <span id="f005">Will be a tatter’d weed of small worth held:</span><br/>
    <span id="f006">Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,</span><br/>
    <span id="f007">Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;</span><br/>
    <span id="f008">To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,</span><br/>
    <span id="f009">Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.</span><br/>
    <span id="f010">How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use,</span><br/>
    <span id="f011">If thou couldst answer ’This fair child of mine</span><br/>
    <span id="f012">Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,’</span><br/>
    <span id="f013">Proving his beauty by succession thine!</span><br/>
    <span id="f014">This were to be new made when thou art old,</span><br/>
    <span id="f015">And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.</span>
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